<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>more weight by remi_wolf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832127">more weight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf'>remi_wolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Brief mentions of everyone else - Freeform, Buried Alive, Character Death, Death, Explosives, Gen, Graphic Description, Happy Ending, Pain, Temporary Character Death, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:41:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's very few things Tim enjoys more than setting out to an abandoned planet and just laying back to watch buildings explode and collapse. It's honestly one of the few things he enjoys doing the proper way, rather than having all sorts of massive, complicated contraptions or plans. Just him, some explosives, and no one around to watch as he sets them up to detonate. It's the little things to get you through immortality, you know?<br/>Unfortunately, things go wrong. </p><p>Whumptober 2020: Running Out of Time. Prompts: Buried Alive, Collapsed Building</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Beguilements and Distractions, Remi's Whumptober Collection for 2020, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>more weight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tim immediately looked up from where he was twining some wires together. He could have sworn that he heard a crack, but he wasn’t entirely sure where it was coming from. He hadn’t even finished laying the charges yet, but...nothing should be wrong. He frowned, adjusting the focus of his eyes as he flipped through the filters. Of course, in a building this old, he couldn’t look through the walls too easily, but everything seemed fine. Three charges left, and then he’d be able to sit back for an old-fashioned explosion. Nothing too fun, no lunar canons or satellite lasers or anything like that. Just some plastic explosives and him and a chair to lay back on as he watched in front of him. He set the current package down that he finished wiring, walking down the stairs. He had a few supports he wanted to ensure got dealt with as well, and that would be simple enough to deal with. Ten more minutes, if that, and then he’d be able to head out and enjoy the show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knelt down next to the pillar, pulling out the next block, before freezing as he heard the quiet groan. He knew what metal sounded like, knew the precise timbre and resonance of pretty much everything at this point, and he knew what it sounded like when support beams started to fail. What had happened to cause that, he had no idea, but he knew something was going wrong already. Just as he stood up, though, he heard a crack, and he looked up. Even without the advantage that his eyes gave him to see minute detail, he could see the cracks spidering out along the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gasp, as he realized what was going on, he started running. The door was on the other side of the basement, though, and he couldn’t even make it half-way across the room before the ceiling opened up with a snapping crack. Despite everything—running, dodging, weaving through the debris—he couldn’t avoid everything, and he felt a slab pin his ankle down, the bones grinding and snapping in his foot and up his leg as he fell to the floor. He couldn’t manage to pull himself free before the next floors up began to collapse as well, even without his explosives to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The explosives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim’s eyes widened as he realized the delicate nature of some of the explosives, and he barely had enough time to realize what would happen before the first charge exploded. Further slabs of concrete fell, mixing with the glass and metal, and Tim tried to pull free, even as dazed as he was. Ears ringing, eyes refusing to focus and stop continuing to readjust, he couldn’t pull his leg free to prevent him from gasping as he felt a metal girder pierce his body and sink into the ground underneath him. He could feel the sticky-warmth of his blood start to pool and soak his shirt, even if he didn’t want it to, and pulling away at this point simply made it worse, ripping and tearing at his skin and muscle and viscera. He didn’t want this. He wanted to get back to the Aurora, but he didn’t know when that would happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His last thought took barely a moment to wonder where the rest of the building was before another slap of concrete fell, snapping and grinding the bones of his arm up to his shoulder and ribs and only barely missing his head. Black oblivion swiftly took over, covering his senses with a muffled blanket before he lost track of time entirely.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Everything hurt. At least Tim’s ears weren’t ringing anymore, not as he slowly opened his eyes to try and remember where he was. He remembered leaving the Aurora to blow up an abandoned building but he didn’t—oh. No, he did remember. It didn’t take much to </span>
  <em>
    <span>force</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to remember as he opened his eyes to the devastation around him. He could barely breathe, let alone move. His neck was turned at an unnatural angle, he could feel that much, not that he could feel too much else. Certainly not his legs, and he certainly couldn’t feel anything other than cold. He tried to turn his head, look somewhere else, but that hurt almost more than the angle it was already at. At least he could manage it, though. He groaned quietly, looking at the carnage around him before freezing. </span>
</p><p><span>Right. Of course. He fell onto his stomach. He couldn’t see much, but he could see the steel beam still impaling him and pinning him to the ground, just barely, along with the rubble that had destroyed a large portion of the rest of his body. At least the beam had kept too much off of his torso, not that it did that much to keep the rest of his body safe.</span> <span>He could feel the way the rubble pressed against him, and while he had a feeling that his body was trying to heal, it wasn’t as though healing bone could do much against the weight of an entire building pressing against his body. </span></p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t even manage to call for help, or reach to the small comms system in his pocket. He didn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with being trapped. But he couldn’t move either of his arms, not without feeling the way his skin stretched and warped with the movement and the bones ground and shifted against the fractures and the sharp edges dug into the surrounding muscle. A quiet sob slipped from his lips, even if he was used to the pain of dying. He might be used to it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt, especially when he had no idea how long he would be here. Brian had been hung for centuries without anyone helping. This planet was abandoned. Entirely abandoned other than them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scream slipped past his lips, trying to get himself heard beyond the rock and metal and glass, and he pulled to try and get free of everything, but he couldn’t pull free. Everything hurt, and he knew he was bleeding all over again, somehow, despite likely not having any blood left in his system anymore. The scream and writhing was cut short as the building shifted again, and a sharp pain to his head cut him off.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>This repeated time and time again. He couldn’t get free. He needed to get free. He couldn’t even pull his arms free, or his legs. Rubble kept shifting and falling with each movement, and at a point, he realized that even if he got free, his communicator was likely broken. He wouldn’t be able to call for help. He’d still be stuck in this tomb of a building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After six times, he lost count, not sure whether he had actually died a few times or not and he simply hadn’t woken up to realize that his heart began beating again. After another countless deaths and lives, Tim just accepted his fate. Stayed still, didn’t move, if only to keep himself from ruining the building further by moving. Maybe if he just let everything sit still, the natural processes of decay and rot would take over, and things would break down enough for him to get free. That would take centuries, though. Centuries upon centuries. He couldn’t remember the last time one of them had been subjected to a death like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he could breathe, if only slightly. That was something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a shaking breath, eyes closed as he tried to ignore the smell of blood and guts and all of the unpleasantness of dying time and time again. Hopefully it would be over soon. Hopefully it would—</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Tim woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim laid there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim died.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>At some point, Tim wondered whether this would be what truly killed him. Marius kept insisting that they weren’t actually immortal. That some death, eventually, would be their actual death, and that perhaps they’d simply not die permanently until they got to that death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully that would be this death. It was centuries and centuries too late, but hopefully it would be this one. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Tim woke up to the feeling of stone grinding against the back of his neck, digging into his skull and threatening to crush him yet again. However, it was new. Nothing had moved in ages, and Tim took a deep breath as he tried to turn to figure out what exactly it was that had everything shifting and moving like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped as he heard something, though. Muffled voices, too distant for him to make out through the layers and layers of stone. He couldn’t manage any breath, not with the last layer of rubble that had decided to entirely crush his ribcage at least fifteen deaths previously. Without any sort of breath, he couldn’t scream, but hopefully whatever was making the noise on the other side of the rubble would help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concrete shifted again, though, and he somehow managed a yelp of pain as he felt his neck snap under the weight. Hopefully the rocks would—</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“There’s something moving! Somehow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim managed a breath, somehow fighting against the rocks to try and pull it in. The sounds were closer, and he could finally understand that they were actually voices now. Voices, and familiar ones, too. Jonny, and he thought that he heard Brian in the background somehow too, though he couldn’t make out his exact words. How had they found him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard another voice, Nastya’s, and he sighed softly. The Aurora, then, most likely. God bless that beautiful ship of theirs. What would he do without her?</span>
</p><p><span>The rubble and rocks kept shifting and moving, pressing against his body, and he tried to scream to get them to hear him, but his throat was ruined</span> <span>enough at this point that he couldn’t manage anything. He tried to keep breathing, though, and moving. If Jonny could see his movement, he’d keep digging him out, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get free. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! I found him! I see him! He’s here, Brian. Tim’s here, we found him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim smiled, finally relaxing and succumbing to his injuries again as he heard Jonny’s voice call out to the others for help.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly.......I'm really not happy with this one. However, I'm trying really hard to post one of these every day, so....here it is. I'm not a fan of Tim in it, and I'm not a fan of some of the description or anything like that, but it's almost two thousand words written today, so...that's something at least? Whatever. Hopefully you somewhat enjoyed it, or something like that.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>